


Five Fail-Safe Ways To Charm a Witch Out Of Her Robes

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite their kiss after the battle, her relationship with Ron hasn't moved forward. Then she overhears Ron and Harry talking about a book and suddenly things start to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Fail-Safe Ways To Charm a Witch Out Of Her Robes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eloquent_toast](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eloquent_toast).



> Originally written as a gift for eloquent_toast for the 2011 Wizard Love fest.

_**Step 1: Look to Yourself First**  
Hygiene is very important. You’d be surprised at how much of an impression a regular shower and fresh-smelling breath can make on a witch. For the more experienced wizard, delving into spicy colognes and stylishly coloured robes can make all the difference. Try a dashing red, or the classic blue. Or if you’re the adventurous sort a charming chartreuse or vivacious vermilion could be your thing. But remember, clean and smelling fresh is best and always wear a smile._

“Don’t open it in front of Hermione.”

Hermione stopped at the sound of her name.

She heard some rustling paper then a bark of laughter from Ron.

“Where did you get it?”

“Flourish and Blotts,” Harry replied. “Did you know they have a back room? Charlie took me to look at, well-“

“I don’t need to know what you were looking at. Bad enough I know you’re sleeping in his room every night.”

So that’s why Ginny had gone to visit Luna. Poor thing. Bad enough your boyfriend the hero breaks up with you, but to dump you for your brother? She’d have to talk to Harry about being sensitive to others feelings. Now to figure out what book they were talking about.

“Anyway,” Harry was saying. “I thought you might enjoy it. Bit of a laugh.”

“Bit of advice,” Ron said. Harry laughed at that.

“If you’re using it for advice, really don’t show it to Hermione.”

“Good morning, Hermione.” Damn. Molly. The boys quickly started talking about Quidditch. She’d need to come up with another plan to figure out trouble the boys were getting up to. She sat down to her eggs and bacon, still stewing over the question.

Honestly, since the end of the war and their move into the Burrow the boys had been horrible. She thought everything would go smoothly with Ron after their kiss, but now she was thinking he’d changed his mind while she’d been in Australia. Maybe the Order of Merlin had brought the pretty, young witches running and Ron realized he’d rather sow his wild oats.

No, she told herself. You were going to be more positive, especially about yourself. Maybe he’s giving you space because your parents are still in St. Mungo’s and it’s your fault their memory is coming in fits and starts. Ron? Being sensitive? Unlikely. Maybe _he’s_ the one upset, after Fred and the funerals and having to live in the Burrow after Grimmauld Place was wrecked in one Deatheater’s search for clues.

Still, another kiss would be nice.

She realized she was fuming as she shoveled eggs into her mouth.

“Hermione?”

“Whu?” It couldn’t have been the first time Ron had said her name.

“I was just saying a picnic might be nice today.”

“Oh, it would be.” That was Molly. “I’ll floo Fleur and tell her to bring Victoire.”

Hermione frowned. A picnic with just them would be nice, but Molly’s head was already in the fireplace.

“Good suggestion, little brother.” Now George as well. Pretty soon a feast was packed up in numerous baskets and every Weasley not needing to work was hiking towards the lake. All the boys were carrying their broomsticks, leaving the baskets to Molly, Fleur, Angelina and herself. They couldn’t even lighten them – it ruined the taste.

She was trailing everyone else when Ron slowed down to walk beside her.

“Do you want to swap? The broom is much lighter.”

“Thank you, Ron.” He leaned close and took the basket from her and she sniffed. “What’s that smell? It smells kind of funky.” She sniffed again. “I hope it’s not the food. But it can’t be. It smells more like old people.”

Ron’s face turned red as she watched.

Oh.

Cologne.

Well, if he didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t.

“We’d better catch up.” He rushed to catch up with Harry and she walked alone until they reached the Weasley’s favourite picnic spot.

It ended up being a pleasant day, and after eating she dozed until the yells from the Quidditch match woke her. They were a handsome bunch, she decided. It looked like George and Percy versus Charlie and Ron in a Chaser’s game, with Harry as the umpire. In their year away Ron had grown up, now taller and broader than any of his brothers except Bill. But even Percy, looking more carefree than she’d seen him in years, was lean with a chiseled face that couldn’t be hidden by glasses or freckles, if she was going to be objective about it.

Ron pulled his t-shirt off and let it fall to the ground and she found she couldn’t be objective anymore. She stayed lying on the blanket but her eyes followed the long, freckled curve of his back around their makeshift pitch.

“Do you agree, ‘ermione? ‘Ermione?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Yes,” Fleur said looking over to where the boys were landing. “I see.”

Ron picked up his discarded t-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his body. There was a part of her that thought she should berate him for it, but she found her mouth was too dry to speak. She turned quickly and helped Molly pack their things.

Walking back she found herself next to Ron again. When he swapped over the basket of leftovers for his broom she found herself breathing deeply. Whatever cologne he’d had on had disappeared, overtaken by the smell of sky and sun and fresh, earthy Ron.

She pulled him behind a tree and pressed him into it. She didn’t let herself think; she just kissed. Every part of her body that could possibly touch his did, and she felt him grow hard against her hip. The sweaty, dirty _man_ ness of him just made her want to get closer and she found herself trying to wrap a leg around his hips. It brought their … groin areas… together and his hands were in her hair and her nails were digging into his shoulders and his groan was invading her limbs making them melt against him.

“Ron? Hermione!”

“Damn,” he muttered. She had to agree.

 

 ** _Step Two: Make Her Feel Irresistible_**  
Like all of us, women like to feel desired. Try putting it into a rejection. For example: “I wish you hadn’t worn those robes tonight. They’re entirely too flattering, I can barely keep my hands off you.” Or: “If you don’t stop touching me, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” This is what the Muggles call ‘Reverse Psychology’. Since witches are contrary creatures they will continue to do touch you or wear flattering robes, and the more desirable you can make her feel the more she will want to be around you.

“It was like she preferred the smell of me all sweaty to that expensive cologne I borrowed from George.”

“For starters, George is hardly the person I’d choose to borrow cologne from. He probably gave you something that smelled nice when you put it on but then changed to the smell of dog shit after thirty minutes. Secondly, don’t sound so surprised. Charlie says sweat smells honest, and Hermione loves honesty.”

“Charlie’s a bloke. He’s used to the smell of blokes. The book says-“

“You’re using the book? It was meant to be a joke.”

Hermione glanced around nervously. She didn’t want anyone to notice her listening at doors. Maybe an extendable ear would be a better idea.

“Well, it has some good advice, but this second one…”

Ron must have passed the book to Harry because there was a pause, then “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I think telling Hermione that would get my hands hexed off.”

“So –“

“Eavesdropping, Granger?” George’s whispered words made her jump. “I’ve got a product that can stop you getting caught so readily by your object of affection’s brother.”

“George, you’re a male,” she said, dragging him downstairs.

“Glad you finally realized.” He wrapped his arms around her with a leer.

“Get off me and tell me why Ron’s been so distant since I got back from Australia.”

“Besides the fact that this is his childhood home and he’s surrounded by a bunch of nosy, meddling Weasley’s?”

“Yes. Harry and Charlie are managing. If he wanted to … get closer … he could.”

“Hermione, you are his ideal. He’s loved you since before he truly knew what it meant. You’re smart, gorgeous, brave, funny and every time he sees you he wants to press you up against a wall and rut against you.” Hermione frowned at the last bit. “Don’t frown, it’s true. But he thinks he’s not worthy. How about using some of that bravery to take the lead? He’ll never tell you how irresistible he finds you, so maybe you should tell him.”

There was a part of her that hated it when George made sense, but she wasn’t going to ignore good advice. Obviously if she wanted to move things along she’d have to take the first step. And it was time to move forward. She was almost nineteen and it was time to put some theory into practice.

Behind her Ron’s door opened and Harry and Ron came tramping down the stairs.

“Morning, Hermione. Blocking the stairs for any particular reason?” Harry said brushing past.

“I was just – no. Not really.”

He laughed. “That’s good.” It was good to hear him happy. He headed into the kitchen, but Ron stopped.

“Is everything alright Hermione?”

“Yes, I was just woolgathering.”

“Oh. Okay.” He started to move past her.

“Is that a new t-shirt?” She flinched. It was his oldest Canons t-shirt that Bill had owned before him. She’d probably seen it a hundred times before.

“No.” He drew out the word like he was looking for time to figure out what was going on. “It’s very old.”

Courage, Granger, she told herself. She reached up to touch it. “That must be why it feels so soft.” She ran her hand across his chest and down to his abs. She swallowed remembering what that torso had looked like bare and sweaty the day before. “How am I ever going to keep my hands off you today, Ron?”

Start slow, she told herself. Walk away. She’d left him speechless and that was a good enough start to the day. Then his hands were on her waist and she found herself pressed against the wall. He was using the stairs to even out their height and one strong thigh kept her hips locked in place. His hands threaded through her hair, loosening the braid she’d pulled it into. Then his mouth was on hers and it was strong and intense and it made her melt and she was so glad his body was there because otherwise her legs would have given way and she’d be a pile of goo on the floor.

“I always have trouble keeping my hands off you,” he said. Then he walked away.

She was the speechless one.

 

 ** _Step Three: Talk of Taboo and Sexuality so She Sees your Human Side._**  
Women need to be reminded that you’re a man, and that you’re thinking of them in a sexual way. So talk about sex, but do it with subtlety. When you talk about sex, say it in a way that Shakespeare would approve of. For example, "Sleep is my second favorite thing to do in bed" or "my neighbors are noisy during the day, but that's okay because my silencing charms aren’t great so they’re kept up at night." This has the added benefit of creating a link in her mind of you and sex. Remember, subtlety is key!

Hermione glared across the room to where Harry and Ron sat in front of the cool fireplace. She was sitting by the window with her book, wishing that the breeze would pick up and cool her down. Ron had spent the day taking about how hot he was, how he needed to cool off, how stiff various muscles were, how his broom needed a workout. She didn’t think he even knew that he was talking in innuendo, but it had kept her mind firmly on sex all day

And now instead of sitting next to her and whispering sweet nothings, he was playing exploding snap with Harry and bending forward to share private conversation with him that she couldn’t hear. If extendable ears were invisible she’d be using one now. Maybe she’d mention that idea to George.

The cards exploded and Ron laughed, conveniently ignoring both her glares and Charlie’s heated glances towards Harry.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “I think I’ll hit the sack.”

“Are you alright, Ron? It’s still early.”

“I’m just tired.” He lowered his voice. “And sleep _is_ my second favourite thing to do in bed.”

Unfortunately for Ron, George heard that. “What’s your first favourite thing, Ronnie? Wanking?” Ron’s face went a deep red and he quickly left the room. Hermione felt her own face grow hotter, though she thought it was for a different reason. Oh, Lord, the idea of Ron masturbating. Did he think about her when he did it?

She went back to her book, but after failing to comprehend the paragraph she was up to three times she decided to go to bed as well.

She had the room to herself since Ginny was still at Luna’s and a part of her wished Ron would sneak in here, like Harry was sneaking into Charlie’s room. She’d saved the world, but she was still a virgin. Although she understood the mechanics of sex – her parents had given her books – she knew that this was one area of life where practical experience was essential. There was no way to relieve this ache between her legs and experience that ecstasy the books talked about without someone else to help.

Unless…

If Ron was having a wank, why couldn’t she?

She’d read about it, of course. She could use her fingers to circle her clitoris to bring on an orgasm. And the book said that if she had one, she’d know. But she didn’t like the idea of touching herself there. Silly, she told herself. It’s your own body. But somewhere at the back of her mind was Mrs Weasley telling her and Ginny that nice girls let their husbands touch them.

Then she thought back to the summer after the fifth year ‘talk’ with McGonagall. She’d gone onto the internet looking for a more muggle approach and had come across a website with masturbation tips. There was something about a pillow.

She grabbed her pillow and put it between her legs and started moving.

It would be easier if the pillow were under her. She turned over, the pillow bunching between her thighs, giving her something to rub against. And rub she did.

Every part of her seemed to be concentrated between her legs, and there was a heat, a liquid heat, making her legs feel weak, as if her insides were melting. She wanted to move faster, but when she did everything got too intense, like her brain was going to explode. That must be the wrong way to do it.

She kept her hips moving, a slow, steady rhythm so different from how fast her heart was beating. Her breath was coming faster and she thought little groans were escaping. Some part of her brain wondered if she should put up a silencing charm, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough for an effective one. She’d just have to pray no one walking past could hear her.

The pressure seemed to be building in her belly now, as if it had shot from her groin up, dragging more and more of her body into the tight feeling that she needed release from. She moved her hips faster, not caring now if her brain exploded as long as the feeling didn’t end.

She followed her instincts, rising up to her knees. It allowed her to move more, get more pressure, more friction and then her brain did explode. She buried her face in the second pillow as a low, choked groan escaped her and every single muscle in her body tensed, then became more relaxed than she’d ever been before.

That was alone. She tried to imagine how much better it would be with Ron.

It was definitely time to take control.

 

 ** _Step Four: Give Her Plenty of Space_**  
Not everyone can be as perfect as me, so it’s inevitable that you’ll have some irritating qualities. You want her to be thinking of the bits she likes, not the bits that annoy her. To this end, give her some space. Don’t _floo her._ Don’t _send her flowers. Leave her alone and let her remember all the reasons she wants to be in your bed._

She slept in the next morning and awoke feeling refreshed. She was full of energy and ready to start her campaign to get Ron into her bed. She went downstairs ready to drag him off for a private walk where _she’d_ spend the day talking in innuendo and getting _him_ all hot and bothered.

Except he wasn’t there.

“The boys all went to Diagon Alley to help George. He’s ready to open the shop, I think.” Molly got a little teary. “It’s hard for him to go by himself, you know. It all reminds him of Fred.”

Instead of further her Get-Ron-Into-Bed campaign, Hermione spent the day crying and laughing with Molly as they sorted through old photos of Fred and cooked all his favourite dishes for dinner. Thankfully they were all favourites of someone else staying and when everyone exclaimed about seeing their particular treat she and Molly just said they wanted to do something nice for everyone. She saw George’s sad smile and realized that he’d figured it out. By the time dinner was over all she wanted was a cuddle.

Ron rushed past her and up the stairs, so she turned to George instead.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair as he pulled her tight.

“It was for your mum.”

“I know. That’s what I’m thanking you for.” She felt his lips brush the top of her head before he let go and she turned to watch him go up the stairs. Ron was there, watching, a hurt look on his face.

“Ron,” she started, but it was too late. He was gone.

She tried to get angry about it as she played exploding snap with Harry. She could be angry about his jealousy, and his jumping to conclusions and… and… his sexy freckles! It was no use. All she could think about was how she wanted it to be his arms around her when she needed comforting and how the hurt look on his face had ripped into her heart. It looked like he was going to sulk in his room all night, so it was definitely time for her to go up. She left Harry and Charlie talking in low voices about strip exploding snap and trudged up the stairs.

“You’re being an idiot, little brother.” George’s voice was coming from Ron’s room. She told herself not to stop and listen, but with the amount of eavesdropping she’d been doing lately one more night wouldn’t matter.

“It’s obvious she prefers you.”

“If that’s obvious to you then it’s a good thing you didn’t do seventh year. You would have failed at even writing your name.” There was a pause. “Did you realize that every dish tonight was one of Fred’s favourites? Hermione spent the day sorting photos of Fred with Mum and then helping her cook a feast for him. Did you notice how red her eyes were? How Mum even smiled without crying tonight? The only obvious thing I’ve noticed is what a fool you are.”

“Then why did she hug you?”

“Well, she was walking straight to you and you brushed on past. So I hugged her instead because she needed one and so did I. If you weren’t such an idiot you could have been the hugger.”

She heard Ron sigh. “What do I do now?”

“Well, I don’t know why you’re not sneaking into her room every night for some canoodling. Harry manages to get to Charlie’s room with no problem.”

“Mum didn’t ward Charlie’s door.”

“Oh.” George voiced her thoughts exactly. “I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to beg forgiveness. Do you love her?”

“Yes. More than I ever thought possible. When I left them last year – “ He paused as if struggling for control. “All I could think of was that I couldn’t protect her anymore, and that if something happened I’d never forgive myself. And I was just kicking myself because leaving meant I’d never be worthy of her. How can she ever forgive me for abandoning her? I don’t know how Harry did.”

“None of that matters if you love her, Ron. So maybe telling her you do is a good start. I don’t think she knows.”

“And if she doesn’t love me?”

I do, Hermione thought. She snuck off before George opened the door.

When people stopped moving about and Arthur’s soft snores were the only sound, Hermione pulled on her robe and moved to the door. She hoped Harry had already gone up to Charlie.

No such luck. There he was coming out of Ron’s room.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he moved past, but didn’t say a word.

“What could you possibly have forgotten?” Ron whispered.

“I didn’t realize I’d need anything besides me,” she said.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”

“Taking a chance. Trying to show you how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like there’s nothing I want more in this world than to feel your skin next to mine.”

He growled, a primitive sound from the back of his throat and she felt that new, tantalizing pulse between her legs. She sat next to him on the bed and pushed the sheet back. His hand on her arm stopped her.

“You can’t. I’m naked.”

“Why are you naked?”

“I was going to –“ He stopped abruptly, the blush flooding his cheeks. She pulled her robe off, then the camisole she’d been sleeping in. His eyes were riveted on her breasts.

“Show me. I want to do it.”

He slowly pushed back the sheet, revealing the long torso she’d been fantasizing about. Ginger hair covered his chest and trailed in a straight line across his abs to where his bent knees hid any sign of arousal. She hoped he was aroused. She pulled the sheet off his knees, wondering at the sight of the hard, straight penis that stuck up straight from a mess of red pubic hair. Her hand moved without any instruction from her brain, fingers running across the tip, feeling the silky skin that seemed to radiate heat.

“Don’t,” he ground out. “If you touch me it will be over. Tell me how to pleasure you.”

“Well, I –“ she swallowed. Hard. “It feels good to have my clitoris rubbed.”

“Show me.”

So she took his hand and pressed it between her legs where she was too afraid to touch the night before. His thumb brushed lightly across it. “Harder,” she breathed and he shifted so that they were kneeling next to each other and his fingers could make tight little circles around the tight bud.

“I want to kiss your breasts.”

She nodded vigorously and then his warm mouth was surrounding her nipple and it was all she could do not to scream.

“Silencing charm,” she managed to gasp.

He grinned. “Already up.”

She pulled his head down to her other breast. “More.”

His fingers moved lower, smearing moist juices around then suddenly they were inside her and it felt so good.

“There,” she said.

“Like this?” He began to pulse his fingers in and out, the heel of his hand brushing her clitoris on every downward stroke.

“Exactly like that.” Then she grabbed his head and kissed him in a teeth-clashing, lip biting desperation. Her hips were rocking under her, helping his fingers hit the right angle and that pressure she remembered so well was building again.

She reached forward and wrapped a hand around his cock. “Do I – like this?”

The hand around her waist clenched and his teeth bit in to her shoulder before he realized what he was doing. “Merlin, yes,” he moaned into her neck.

His pace inside her became more erratic but it didn’t matter because the pleasure was cresting, the ecstasy shaking through her and his strangled _Hermione_ was floating through her subconscious as she felt him pulse under her hand.

“That was – “

“So much better with another person.”

“No,” he said. “So much better with you.”

She felt a little part of her heart melt and she leaned across to kiss him, smearing semen between them.

“I should clean this cum up.”

“It’s semen, Ron. Not ‘cum’.”

“Cum.”

“Ejaculate, possibly. But cum is a horrible, ugly word.”

“What’s this then?” He held up his fingers, coated in the slickness from between her legs, then promptly put his fingers in his mouth.

“Ron!”

“Tastes good, this pussy juice.”

“It’s not pussy juice. Pussy is another horrible, distasteful word.”

“What then?”

“I - I’m not sure. I’ll have to look up the correct word.” She moved to stand up.

“Not now.”

“No, now I should go back to my room.”

“Sleep here.”

“But your mother – “

“Harry will wake us up. Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Ron.”

 

 ** _Step Five: Know When to Walk Away_**  
For a young wizard about town commitment is not something to be desired. The last step in continuing to charm witches into bed is to know when to walk away. This should be done before her feelings are too invested – the Wizarding World is a small one and you don’t want her telling her friends that you treated her badly. But it must be after you have satisfied her, because then she’ll be telling her friends how much fun she had. Be careful not to let your emotions get invested and you could have many more years of fun and friendly encounters to look forward to.

Unfortunately, Ron’s single bed was not very comfortable for two and the room was too small to put much of an engorgement charm on it, so Hermione ended up finding a book to read while Ron nestled against her breast and snored quietly.

 _Five Fail-Safe Ways to Charm a Witch out of Her Robes._ Her eyes almost fell out of her skull when she saw the author but she opened the cover anyway. This must have been the book they were talking about the morning of the picnic.

In the hours before dawn so much was made clear – the horrible cologne, the innuendo. Ron’s comment about having trouble keeping his hands off her. It was also clear that the writer really had no idea about how women’s minds worked. She giggled at his idea of subtlety in talking about sex – the examples were as subtle as a Bat-Bogey Hex.

She’d set an alarm on her wand so she could be back in bed before Molly got up and it went off just as she finished the last section. Walk away, huh? She shook Ron awake.

“Were you going to follow the last bit of advice?”

“You read my book!”

“I’m not going to let you walk away, Ron.”

“I wasn’t going to try. Honestly, most of the advice seemed a bit odd to me.”

“Considering how you hated him in school, I’m surprised you’d taken any of it seriously.”

“Hated who?”

She flipped to the back cover to a picture of the author. Although much younger than when they knew him, the face of their second year Defence teacher was easily recognizable.

“Lockhart?”

“You didn’t know? It’s there on the cover. G. Lockhart.”

“Thought it might have been a relation. Never seen a book of his without _his_ pretty face on the cover.”

“So no more smelly cologne? And no subtle sex talk?” He shook his head. “You can still tell me how irresistible I am though.” She looked down, suddenly nervous. “Are you going to walk away?”

“No.” He took her hands and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m here as long as you’ll have me. I’m never walking away. I love you.”

She threw her arms around him. “I love you, too. And if you ever want to charm me out of my robes all you have to do is ask.”

“Would you like to get out of your robes?”

“I believe I might,” she said, grasping the hem of her camisole again.

The door behind them opened. “Oh, I didn’t need to see that! We’re going to need a system of something. Socks on the door handle.” Harry had his hands over his eyes. “The whole room smells of sex!”

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said, swiftly pressing a kiss to Ron’s lips. “You smell of sex, too, Harry Potter. And I bet you enjoyed your night just as much as we did.”

Harry grinned and kissed her cheek again. “Good night, Hermione.”

With one last look at her rumpled boyfriend in the bed they'd shared, she left the room and snuck back to Ginny’s. Once there she dug to the bottom of her old school trunk to a series of books with a handsome face on the cover. She gently placed _Five Fail-Safe Ways to Charm a Witch out of Her Robes_ with the rest of her Lockhart collection.

“Thank you, Professor,” she whispered.

The advice might have been terrible, but it had worked.


End file.
